


Devotion

by SugarsweetRomantic



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Could be considered part of the Playtime universe I suppose, F/F, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safeword Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-08 00:24:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14682603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarsweetRomantic/pseuds/SugarsweetRomantic
Summary: devotion (noun)UK: /dɪˈvəʊ.ʃən/; US: /dɪˈvoʊ.ʃən/loyalty and love or care for someone or something:1 a: religious fervour: pietyb: an act of prayer or private worship —usually used in pluralc: a religious exercise or practice other than the regular corporate worship of a congregation2 a: the act of dedicating something to a cause, enterprise, or activity: the act of devotingb: the fact or state of being ardently dedicated and loyal3 (obsolete): the object of one's devotion





	Devotion

Franky observed Bridget as the blonde woman finished typing up an incident report. Her posture was rigid, and her jaw was locked the way it always was when she was having migraines. Life at Wentworth had been nothing short of a shitstorm lately, and it was having its effect on the correction centre’s resident psychologist. Late night and early mornings had exhausted her, and even now, on a free Saturday, after hours of extra sleep, she was on edge. She sighed as she closed her laptop. Franky decided to pour her a glass of her favourite red wine. Maybe that would help her relax a little.

“Here, Gidge,” she commented as she handed her the stemware. The blonde gave her a tense smile as she reached out to accept it. The moment her fingers grasped the stem, however, it slipped, and the burgundy liquid spilt across the floor in the midst of shattered glass. 

“Fuck!” Tears welled up in Bridget’s eyes. Shit, that wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Franky quickly bent down to the floor to gather the larger shards. Gently, she consoled: “Don’t worry about it Gidge, shit happens.” The psychologist was crying softly as the wine seeped between the floorboards. Once she had cleaned the largest mess up, Franky approached her again. Taking her hands in hers, she asked: “How can I help you?” Bridget shook her head and gazed at the ceiling.

“I need to just not be the one in charge. I’m so tired of being responsible for everything and everyone.” She choked back a sob. After hesitating for a second, Franky responded: “We can do that. You know we can.” She hoped Bridget understood the implication. Judging from the look on her face, she did. 

“Please.” This time, Franky was the one to shake her head.

“You’re emotional. We’re going to have dinner, and then, afterwards, we’ll discuss this again, okay?” Bridget sighed in defeat. The blonde would have to hold on just a little longer. Franky needed her to be calmer to consent. Besides that, if they were going to do this, she needed her girl to have some nutrition in her system.

 

Dinner went by, and Bridget did her best to eat; that much was obvious. After they had cleared the table and the dishwasher was running, Franky asked: “Do you still want to do this tonight?” The psychologist nodded. “Words, Gidge.”

“Yes.”

“Go to the bedroom and kneel next to the bed. My side.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The blonde quickly left the kitchen. Franky could hear her stockinged feet pad across the hardwood flooring. She took a deep breath. Was she really going to do this? Was this even responsible, considering the state Bridget was in? She was going to have to be very careful. The paralegal made sure all doors and windows were locked before she gathered some supplies and walked over to the bedroom.

 

When she entered the room, Bridget was on the floor as instructed. Her hands were folded in her lap, and her head was bent. She kept silently staring at the floor, though the slight shift in her posture indicated she was aware of the fact that Franky had just entered. The brunette got down onto her haunches in front of the psychologist and tenderly touched her cheek.

“Look at me.” Slowly, blue orbs gazed back at her, though a slight fog hid their usual brightness. “What are your safewords?”

“Yellow and red.” Good, she remembered. They could get started now.

“You will not speak or move unless instructed to, or to use your safewords. Do you understand?” Franky’s voice was stricter than it normally was, and Bridget immediately responded: “Yes ma’am.” 

“Good. Stand up, so I can undress you.” The blonde quickly did as she was told. Franky raised her hands to her blouse and undid the buttons efficiently, exposing the camisole Bridget was wearing underneath. She pushed the silk off of her shoulders and draped it over a nearby chair.

“Lift your arms.” Next to go was the camisole. A lacy thing it was. It was pretty, Franky mused, but it was in the way. Swiftly, it joined the smooth fabric on the chair. Bridget was wearing white underneath it all. That could stay on, for now. The brunette’s fingers searched the top of her skirt for the invisible zipper. She rejoiced silently once her fingertips came into contact with the cool, hard metal. It was a nice contrast to the blonde’s warm, soft skin. She pulled it down and guided her girl to step out of the garment, leaving her in her lingerie and stockings. Her choice of undergarments left little to the imagination, and Franky would be the last to complain about the absence of fabric. Though the shorter woman was still gazing at the floor, Franky could tell her cheeks were flushed and her lips were parted ever so slightly. 

“Get back into position, back towards me.” Franky had barely finished pronouncing the final syllable before Bridget was kneeling at her feet again. The taller woman grabbed a hairbrush from her nightstand and pulled blonde locks out of the updo that was containing them. She carefully brushed Bridget’s hair until the last tangle was gone, gathered it in a low ponytail and bound it together with a white ribbon. If she hadn't had first-hand evidence, she would have considered the psychologist to look almost virginal. 

“Good girl,” she complimented her, letting her fingernails trail along the back of the blonde’s neck. Bridget shivered slightly in response. Was she cold? The older woman could be stubborn, so she’d have to pay attention closely to make sure she wasn’t getting too cool. “Now,” she continued, “you are at my mercy. I decide what happens to you and what doesn’t. I make all of the decisions. You’re not even allowed to think about anything other than what’s going on right here, right now. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bridget spoke softly but clearly. 

“Good,” Franky repeated once more, gently gliding her fingertips across the psychologist’s cheekbones. A slight tap against her lips, and the blonde relaxed her jaw, letting the brunette’s index finger slip into her mouth. She suckled gently, her breathing slowing down.

“Get onto the bed,” the brunette commanded, stepping away from her partner to grab some supplies. Something felt off about her girl, and she had a feeling she could figure out what. She roughly grabbed Bridget’s right wrist and bound her to the headboard of their bed, doing the same with her left. The blonde gasped softly, but didn’t say anything, though she visibly tensed. Come on, Bridget. Say something. Stand up for yourself. Franky laid a flogger onto the mattress. The older woman didn’t like it; she knew this. She wanted to see a reaction in her. An anxious unease crept onto the psychologist’s face, but the bound woman remained silent, eyes focused on the black scourge which contrasted harshly with the ivory-coloured sheets. God damn it, Gidge! It was time for her final act. The younger woman revealed a blindfold and laid it across blue eyes without warning. Bridget froze completely. She didn’t say a word.

“You can’t consent like this,” Franky mumbled. She could feel the blonde’s brow furrowing under the soft cloth. 

“I…” Bridget started, but the paralegal shook her head.

“No. Red," Franky called out for the both of them.

 

The home was calm, laboured breathing the only thing audible in the night.

 

"You don't have to speak, but you need to talk."

 

~Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work that has been hanging out on my Drive for quite some time. At first, I wanted to add a second chapter, but now, this is where I want to leave it. Thank you very much for reading, I'd love to hear what you think of it.


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